Aubrey
by Maveness
Summary: Why does Martha love tulips so much?


Aubrey  
  
By Maveness Delight  
  
In response to Livia's X-Title challenge.  
  
Feedback: Okay, I'll take it. It's all welcome. Just no flaming. I take constructive criticism only.  
  
Archive: Ask first and ye shall possibly receive. mavenessdelight@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Thank you: Thank you to my wonderful betas, SullivanLane (My girl! My twin!) and Ellenore. Thanks so much.  
  
  
  
They brought tulips every year on that day. Red tulips. Graceful, delicate, yet bold.  
  
Tulips for Aubrey.  
  
Martha raised the tulips to her nose and took a deep breath. The heavy perfume filled her lungs, overwhelming her senses. To think, they had been doing this for 18 years. She tilted her head back, soaking in the sun.  
  
Eighteen years without Aubrey.  
  
The autumn air was crisp, holding a promise of the bite of winter, but Martha ignored it. She merely thought of how it could have been.  
  
A newborn babe, nuzzling at her mother's breast, a warm, squirming bundle of love. A smell of milk and baby powder with alabaster cheeks.  
  
A 1-year-old, taking her first tottering steps. The inherent trust that her mother would catch her should she fall shining in her bright blue eyes.  
  
A 2-year-old, petulant pout on her face, blonde curls in disarray, demanding more cookies and throwing a fit when she was told no.  
  
A 3-year-old girl, running through the cornfields, giggling as she chased a flitting butterfly. Skipping, twirling. Incandescent in the summer sun, joy written in every line of her body.  
  
A 4-year-old, doing her best to help her daddy in the barn, clumsily carting about hay, leaving a trail that Jonathan would inevitably have to clean up.  
  
A 5-year-old, nervous on the first day of school, clutching her daddy's hand tightly in her own. The tears threatening to spill over her lashes as she tried to be brave.  
  
A 6-year-old, running to her with tears in her eyes and a skinned knee, full of the knowledge that all would be right with a kiss and a bandage from Mom.  
  
A 7-year-old, showing off her Easter dress to her grandmother, mere moments before running off to play a dirty game of tag with the boys.  
  
An 8-year-old, playing Little League baseball, because she would truly be her daddy's girl. Stepping up to the plate with that familiar but feminine stubborn set to her jaw.  
  
A 9-year-old, sitting on the couch, playing video games with her dad, laughing with delight when she won.  
  
A 10-year-old, stumbling and grumbling on Saturday morning as she prepared to go with them to the farmer's market.  
  
An 11-year-old, chattering excitedly on the phone with her girlfriends about going to junior high, the latest boy band or what they were wearing on the first day of school.  
  
A 12-year-old, begging her to let her wear makeup, then in the next instant wanting to cuddle on the couch while watching a Disney movie.  
  
A 13-year-old, going to her first boy/girl dance, torn between the humiliation of having her father drop her off and the joy of her father saying she looks like an angel.  
  
A 14-year-old, big braces-filled smile on her face after scoring the game winning run for the JV softball team.  
  
A 15-year-old, going out on her first, real date, dad meeting her date at the door, masquerading as the Grand Inquisitor.  
  
A 16-year-old, taking the car out by herself for the first time, waving at them as she pulls out of the drive, car stereo blaring.  
  
A 17-year-old, rolling her eyes as Martha stopped her for one more picture before heading off to the prom. A flowing pink dress, shimmering in the light as her eyes sparkled with the joy of youth.  
  
An 18-year-old, crossing the stage to accept her diploma, then turning to wave to them, an ecstatic grin splitting her face, the promise of so much more in a simple flip of a tassel.  
  
The long talks. The heated arguments. The hugs. The hurts. The tears. The smiles.  
  
All of that could have been Aubrey. Martha's little girl that never had a chance to be.  
  
Martha opened her eyes slowly, the sun blinding her momentarily. Then she looked down upon the tiny tombstone.  
  
Aubrey Kent  
  
October 18, 1984 - October 18, 1984  
  
Blessed be the children, God's littlest angels.  
  
As she bent to place the flowers on the grave, a smile graced her lips. One tear escaped and left a moist trail on her cheek. She set the flowers down, then kissed her fingertips and touched the tombstone. She turned and walked back toward the road.  
  
As she prepared to climb in the car, she looked to her left. Less than a mile down the road, between the old Kent family graveyard and Smallville. To that one spot. Where, on an October day such as this, on their way to take tulips to Aubrey, they had received the blessing they dared not hope for.  
  
Martha's eyes lifted heavenward and she whispered, "Thank you." 


End file.
